Chapter Twenty: The Lion's Roar from the East of the River

“Above the rosy clouds, there are boundless realms where longevity is tied. In the easternmost seas, ethereal and void, the weak waters of Penglai. In the southern palaces, crimson banners and symbols are inscribed. Scarlet halls shine with splendid embroidery, the wings of the Dipper blaze and auspicious light rises…”

Within a grand hall of the Chen Family Manor, several dancers twirled gracefully as they sang, their movements elegant and fluid. Nearby, a group of musicians played enchanting melodies, the notes of strings and flutes weaving together, creating an atmosphere akin to a celestial paradise.

Chen Tao, the master of the manor, held a cup of wine, lounging on brocade from Shu, appreciating the captivating dances and listening to the delightful music.

Wine may not intoxicate, yet people become drunk on the moment.

“Hanjian, please drink this cup,” Chen Tao said, holding up another cup and addressing Li Sanchan.

“Uncle, I truly cannot hold my liquor,” Li Sanchan replied, politely declining.

Li Sanchan had never expected that a simple welcoming banquet would be so extravagant… Songstresses and dancers serving wine—this was his first experience of such revelry and gaiety.

He wondered, who was this man to maintain so many performers? With such a household, his concubines must be plentiful as well, and Li Sanchan’s curiosity grew.

Yet he could only speculate quietly. Though the singers and dancers were not all peerless beauties, they were lovely as flowers. Many cast flirtatious glances at him, making him embarrassed. He lowered his head, drinking and eating with shy demeanor. After all, whether in this life or the last, Li Sanchan had never been intimate with any woman.

Chen Tao noticed Li Sanchan’s reluctance and laughed, “A good man stands tall—what are a few cups of wine? At worst, let yourself be drunk and rest here.”

There was a hint of mischief in Chen Tao’s smile, which puzzled Li Sanchan.

“Uncle, I truly cannot drink more,” Li Sanchan insisted. “Tomorrow, by my teacher’s command, I must continue my journey. I hope you will forgive me.”

The wine they drank was very mild, no more than ten percent alcohol, Li Sanchan estimated. Yet even mild wine, when consumed in excess, could be overwhelming, especially for someone as slight as Li Sanchan.

Seeing Li Sanchan nearly swaying, Chen Tao smiled and shook his head. “Very well, I won’t press you.”

Chen Tao himself was somewhat tipsy. He pulled a songstress close and asked, “Hanjian, do you know which school of thought you are to study?”

This question left Li Sanchan confused.

Li Sanchan had studied under Su Shi for just over a year, learning little more than basic texts such as the Hundred Family Surnames, Thousand Character Classic, and the Analects. As for which school of thought he belonged to, Su Shi had never mentioned it, so Li Sanchan had no idea.

Chen Tao saw his bewilderment and laughed. “It seems your teacher never told you.”

Li Sanchan bowed respectfully. “Please enlighten me, Uncle.”

“Haha, you are astute,” Chen Tao nodded. “Very well, let me tell you about the main schools in our Song Dynasty.”

Chen Tao took a deep draught and continued, “There are four main schools: Wang Anshi’s New Learning of Jing Gong, that’s the first; the second is the Luoxue of the two Chengs; the third is Zhang Zai’s Guanxue; and lastly, your teacher’s Shu School, also called Su School.”

“New Learning, Luoxue, Guanxue, Shu School?” Li Sanchan pondered. “All are Confucian schools?”

“Of course,” Chen Tao replied.

“Do these four schools differ greatly, each with their own merits?” Li Sanchan asked.

“You are teachable,” Chen Tao nodded. “The New Learning of Jing Gong focuses on promoting benefit. The Luoxue of the Chengs emphasizes virtue. The New Learning aims for a prosperous nation and strong military, using financial management and adaptability, which the Chengs oppose. They believe in humane governance, upholding ritual and education. This is their main difference.”

“And what of the Shu School?” Li Sanchan continued.

“Your teacher wrote: ‘The young follow my master’s imperial tomb, drawing from Laozi and Shakyamuni.’ This birthday ode for your uncle Ziyou reveals the academic roots of Su’s Shu School: it reveres Confucianism, but also integrates Buddhism and Daoism,” Chen Tao replied.

Li Sanchan only half understood, but he was suddenly perplexed: if the Shu School differed from other Confucian schools, why did Su Shi send him to study elsewhere? Would not learning another school’s doctrines contradict the Shu School?

Moreover, Chen Tao had not mentioned Guanxue, which puzzled Li Sanchan—was there some hidden reason?

Since Chen Tao did not elaborate, Li Sanchan could not press further. Instead, he asked, “Uncle, if so, why does my teacher want me to study other doctrines?”

“You truly don’t know?” Chen Tao asked.

“To pass the imperial examination, one must study at the academy for at least three hundred days. Is there another reason?” Li Sanchan wondered aloud.

“Hanjian, you are indeed clever,” Chen Tao took another sip. “Do you know who governs the court now?”

“Is it not His Majesty?” Li Sanchan replied.

“Haha!” Chen Tao laughed. “You do not yet understand court affairs. The emperor rules, but he needs ministers. The current chief ministers are Zhang Dun, Zeng Bu, and Cai Bian—all members of the Yuanfeng faction. They highly value Jing Gong’s New Learning and control the examination system. Therefore, all scholars must study the New Learning, and the exam questions are drawn from it. If you wish to pass the imperial exams and enter officialdom, you must study Jing Gong’s New Learning.”

Chen Tao paused, looked at Li Sanchan, and asked, “Given this, do you still wish to pursue your studies?”

“This…” Li Sanchan was speechless.

He understood Chen Tao’s implication: Su Shi was banished from court because he opposed the dominant school, exiled due to differing political views—ultimately, due to academic factionalism, which was the source of court strife.

If Li Sanchan studied the New Learning, he would be betraying his teacher, a grave offense in this world, despised by all scholars.

Li Sanchan had never grasped this concept before. Did Su Shi not understand? Why then did Su Shi send him to study in Lingshan County, Qinzhou?

The path to officialdom is perilous; even after many years, the waters of the court run deep and worldly affairs are endlessly complex—will you persevere? Chen Tao watched Li Sanchan wrestle with his thoughts, amused, curious to see how he would resolve this dilemma.

Chen Tao guessed that the young Li Sanchan would find no good solution, likely flustered and at a loss.

After a long silence, Li Sanchan suddenly looked up, resolve shining in his eyes as he said to Chen Tao, “Uncle, I will continue my studies, gathering the strengths of all schools for my own use—that is the best course. Yet no matter what, I, Li Hanjian, will always be my teacher’s pupil. As the Sage said, ‘One day as a teacher, a lifetime as a father.’ No matter what happens, my teacher will always be my mentor, and I will always belong to the Shu School. I will never forget this until my last breath.”

Li Sanchan’s words, firm and clear, left Chen Tao astonished. He had never expected such righteous and loyal sentiments from one so young, prompting him to re-evaluate Li Sanchan.

“Bravo!” After a moment, Chen Tao exclaimed, “Hanjian, you truly deserve to be Brother Zizhan’s disciple. He saw you rightly. I believe Brother Zizhan meant the same. May you carry the Shu School forward! Come, let us drink three more cups, and may you fulfill Brother Zizhan’s hopes.”

Li Sanchan was speechless. More wine? If he drank more, he’d have to crawl back…

But Chen Tao insisted, so Li Sanchan could not refuse. He frowned, raised his cup, and drank deeply, coughing from the haste.

“Haha!” Chen Tao laughed, turning to two dancers nearby, “You two, attend Li as he drinks.”

“Yes,” the two dancers replied, bowing, then knelt on either side of Li Sanchan and filled his cup.

The scent of their perfume made Li Sanchan dizzy.

“Please drink, young master,” they said, offering the cup.

Young master? Li Sanchan found it secretly amusing—he was just a commoner from a poor family, considered a barbarian by some, and now he was addressed as a young master?

Unable to refuse, Li Sanchan drank the wine in one gulp.

Such is human nature: at first, one resists drinking, determined to restrain himself, but after a certain point, all caution is forgotten…

Soon, Chen Tao and Li Sanchan were exchanging cups with growing enthusiasm, encouraged by the singers and dancers. The two, one old and one young, seemed like long-lost friends, calling each other brother and acting foolishly.

As the saying goes, “Wine emboldens the timid.” Chen Tao was a seasoned veteran, Li Sanchan young but bold. As they drank, they became more audacious, their hands wandering over the singers and dancers, eliciting shrieks and giggles.

At that moment, a loud crash sounded from outside, and the wooden screen suddenly toppled with a bang.

“Chen Jichang, what are you doing?” came a furious shout from behind the fallen screen.

Startled, Chen Tao, Li Sanchan, and Chen Sen turned to see, and there stood two beautiful women—one mature, one young. The middle-aged beauty glared at Chen Tao, while the younger beauty fixed her gaze on Li Sanchan.

Chen Tao, startled, tumbled from his couch, stammering as he looked at the middle-aged woman, “W-w-wife… how did you return?”